Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) (24 page)

             
“So what about you, Jack?” I ask suggestively, crossing my arms and eying him playfully. “Got any faeries in mind for courting?”

             
“Courting!” h
e bellows, practically spitting across the hole. “Are you crazy? There are very few I’d even consider dating at this point.”

             
“Down boy,” I ease, holding my hands up in surrender. I certainly
don’t
want him bursting that blood vessel
currently
pulsating on his forehead. “Got it. You’re not ready to court. But what exactly is
dating
?”

             
“What’s
dating
?” he asks incredulously. “Seriously? Don’t you pixies date?”

             
“Maybe. What is it?”

             
“It comes before courting. You go out with a few different faeries, or in your case pixies, before deciding which one you want to court. You know, try them on for size and see if you’re right for each other. Don’t you pixies do that?”

             
I shake my head. “No. We just court.”

             
“Dear
,
Mother Nature. Can you break off the courtship if one of you wants out?”

             
“Huh. I don’t know. I’ve never noticed it happening before, but I suppose someone would have at some point.”

             
“So…were you…uh…being courted back home?”

             
My lips curl in one direction, laughing internally over his awkwardness. “No. Guess I haven’t found a pixie that gets my wings fluttering either.”

             
There’s a quiet
hmm
coming off his throat, then we sit in silence for a few minutes. I don’t mind the silence really. Just his presence is comforting. It keeps me from going all crazy down here. But the longer I sit in silence, the more I realize my intestines are still mad at me. The internal twisting is painful. My knees shoot upward and I keel over to bury my face in my legs, gently rocking.

             
Metal scrapes across the rock, nearing my body, and I know it’s that dreadful bucket Jack brought me. As I twist my head sideways to glare up at him, he says, “Let me know when you’re done with that.” At least he’s not mocking me, or flashing me any type of embarrassing facial expressions. But the humiliation of my predicament overwhelms my emotions. I cringe and bury my head once more, digging my hands roughly through my oil-soaked hair. I can’t believe this is really happening to me.

             
“Try not to think about it,” he says softly. I hear him brush the dirt off his pants. “Trust me. I’m not going to take the time to study it before I dump it.”

             
I raise my right hand and give him a thumb
s
up, but refuse to look at him as he departs. On the comforting side, he kindly refrains from laughing at my expense. Can’t say the male pixies in my Hollow could have done that.

Jack descends within a warm, luminous light. I like seeing him this way. Something about the flame’s glow against his skin is alluring, easy on the eyes. He flutters his wings as he lands and sets the lantern down. How I wish I
can
have that lantern during the night. No one ever comes by, at least not to my awareness. I just hate being alone down here, and that light could offer a little comfort during those cold, dark hours.

             
“Good morning, Rosalie.” He points to the bucket off to the side. “Are you done with that?”

             
I nod my head, averting my eyes from his gaze, the shame overwhelming. It wasn’t easy going in that bucket, or comfortable
by any means, but I suppose it’ll
be even more humiliating
if
Jack
saw it
on the floor.

             
“Good,” he says, moving
to pick it up by the handle. “Bec
ause we need it for something else today.”

             
He’s already flying up before I get off, “For what?”

             
“You’ll see,” he teases, disappearing from sight. I can’t say I’d be excited over anything having to do with the very bucket I’m forced to defecate in. He returns a few minutes later, bucket in one hand, and a bag made of tightly woven straw that’s tied with rope in the other. The bucket, I notice, is filled with nothing but water. I look to him curiously, and he replies, “Don’t worry. I washed it out several times. It’s clean.”

             
“O-kay…” I draw out. “But what are we going to use it for?”

             
He unties the rope and opens the bag, pulling out two
miniature
lemons already halved
,
and a tin container. He unscrews the lid and passes it over. The substance inside is amber in color, and thick and gooey.

             
I gasp, and feel my eye muscles stretch wide.
Honey!
“I get to wash my hair?” I ask excitedly, practically bobbing up and down right where I sit.

             
He chuckles at my excitement.

             
“Thank you, Mother Nature!” I scream.

             
“Mother Nature? Thank me. I’m the one sneaking this stuff in here, not her.”

             
“And I appreciate that beyond words, but Mother Nature’s the one that made the lemons and honey to begin with.”

             
“Too right. But I hope some of the credit goes to me.”

             
“Oh, it does.” I’m still bouncing up and down with excitement, my smile spreading wide. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted something besides water to clean my hair with.”

             
“Uh, yeah I do. Don’t forget, I get to see that mop on your head daily. I ain’t going to lie, Rosalie. It’s disgusting.”

             
Air bursts through my closed lips so fast they pop outward and vibrate. “
You
try going weeks without washing your hair.”

             
“No,” he says, huffing, a hint of laughter underlining his word. “So how do you feel about lying across my legs for a bit?”

             
My body snaps. Eye muscles pinching, I look at him questioningly. “You want me to what?”

             
My look must be really entertaining, because Jack breaks out in laughter. “It’s just…your hair is really disgusting. We’re going to have to soak it for awhile. And the only way you’re going to be able to do that without killing your neck is to get a little higher off the ground. So…I’m suggesting that you lie across my legs to do that.”

             
My lips press tight. Lie on his legs? On my back? That would be…awkward, to say the least. “Tell you what. Let me try it on my own first.” There’s just something too vulnerable about
doing it the way he suggests
.

             
“
O
-k
ay.” He says it like he knows my way will fail.

             
He cups the
halves in his hand
s one at a time
and squeezes the juice into the bucket, as I allow the honey to drip. I then dip the tin container into the water and use my fingers to loosen what honey is still clinging. Since my hand is already submerged, I swirl the water, mixing the juice and honey. The lemon burns my recent scratches.

             
“Have fun breaking your
neck
,” he teases.

             
I glare playfully as I sit on my knees before the bucket. “I think you’re just using this as an excuse to get me in your lap.” I don’t wait to see if my words shock him. I bend over and dip my hair into the water, rotating my head until most of my roots are submerged.
Ahhhhh…
The relief is immediate, the lemon stinging the bare skin on my forehead. If I’m lucky enough, the lemon juice will
break off
the oil on
my hair, and eventually my scalp will tingle too.

             
I won’t lie. Bending over like this with my knees digging into the rocks isn’t exactly comfortable. Needing a distraction, I as
k the suddenly quiet Jack, “So…i
s your mother a healer or something?”

             
“Yeah. And my father’s in the court system. They’re both prominent in the community, so they’ve got some mighty high expectations of me. They want me to follow in my father’s footsteps, but to be honest, his life doesn’t appeal to me much.”

             
“Well, what does appeal to you?” I ask, swaying my head and hair sideways, elongating my neck each time to loosen the muscles
that are
trying
hard to tense up
.

             
“I don’t know.
Something that’ll let me venture into the forest each day.
Get away from the city and the politics.”

             
“Do you mean village?”

             
“Yeah. We consider our society a city. You pixies broke off into segregated villages. We faeries mostly live together in one place, and we call it a city.”

             
“Sounds really big compared to my quaint little Hollow.”

             
“Rosalie, you’re little Hollow is looking more and more like the way to go with each passing day.

             
“So what a
bout you?
What do you want to do?
”

             
“Same. Anything in the forest is good with me. But w
e don’t really get to pick our skills in my Hollow. Everyone does something different each month. For those that become really spectacular at something, like making medicinal ointments like your mother, the elders will decide if that’s all you’ll do from then on out. Otherwise, you just stay in the rotation like the rest of us, working on everything.”

             
“Well that’s cool. Sort of. I guess the only bad thing would be if the elders decide you should do something you’re not in love with, no matter how good you may be at it.”

             
“Well, you can ask. The elders do respect our wishes. Some pixies flat out ask if they can do a certain type of work. Sometimes the elders say yes, sometimes no. But if it’s something you really want, you should go for it.”

             
“I like your Hollow. You guys get to experience everything to figure out what you like. Here, you’re just expected to choose a field and be good at it. It sucks.”

             
My shoulders and neck are beginning to burn, even with me constantly trying to stretch the muscles out. But I will say that the lemon water infused with honey is therapeutic, and soothes my aches a bit with each inhalation. Aroma therapy at its best.

             
“Ahhh….”

             
Chuckling, Jack asks, “Your neck hurting yet?”

             
“Yes. But it’s just nice to smell something for once, you know? It takes something sharp like lemons to pierce my senses. Most of what I eat is completely tasteless. Although I think it’s been getting a little better lately. Maybe it’s a malnourishment thing. Maybe once my body gets back in order, I’ll be able to smell and taste the subtle flavors again.”

             
“I wish you were a faerie, Rosalie,” Jack says out of nowhere.

             
He says it with kindness, but my neck locks with apprehension anyway. “Is there something wrong with my being a pixie?”

             
“No. Not at all. It’s just…you would have been fun to hang out with…outside this place. Especially since you seem to like hanging out in nature, outside of your society. None of the females
here know
how to build a t
ree house
, and most would probably find hanging out in one pretty revolting, too used to the glitz and glamour of the city
.”